Rehema in not drunk shocker!
Apr. 24th, 2008 11:27 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
lanfykins.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
zg_shadowsShe could no longer feel the pendant she held, its chain blowing in the wind. She forced her aching fist to clench tighter still; if she lost that pendant, she lost everything. Besides, it wasn't hers.
Cold struck her again, like a blow, and once again she raised her voice, choking the ancient words past the constriction in her throat, struggling to bridge the power across her fractured soul. Again it shorted, overflowing into fragile flesh, sending little shocks of pain throughout her entire body.
Sparks danced before her eyes and she clutched with her free hand at the windowframe. If she fell, this was over. No. When she fell. This ritual had never been meant for this. Her bodged-together soul couldn't sustain the effort.
Was the wind letting up a fraction?
She couldn't seem to breathe. She wasn't even sure whether she was speaking anymore, or just thinking the words. She released the windowframe and jerkily sketched a symbol in the air, reaching into the amulet in her other hand to empower it once more.
Her muscles spasmed. Tears of pain formed on her cheeks, but she couldn't breathe, far less cry out. Sparks flickered in front of her eyes, the sky dimming oddly behind them. She felt something beginning to shift...
Her entire body seemed to twitch. She staggered back from the window and fell.
***
...fire-warmed velvet. She felt as if she were wrapped in fire-warmed velvet, and sure hands gently smoothed away the painful shocks that danced in her muscles. She gasped for breath for a moment, then her lungs responded and she relaxed gratefully into the sheer relief of breathing.
She was lying down, her head propped up on something, a warm pressure on her brow from which the healing energy flowed.
Precious healing shouldn't be wasted on her.
"OK. I'm OK," she said quickly, rolling out from under his hands. She paused for a moment, fighting off a wave of dizziness, before coming to her feet, ignoring the offered hand. Quickly untangling the chain from her fingers she handed his pendant back to him. "Thanks."
She watched as he clasped the chain back around his neck. The window was closed now, snow piling up on the ledge outside, and in the absence of the scouring wind the stink of her flat was reasserting itself; of stale sweat, of the whisky soaked into the carpet, of the rotting food in the fast-food containers that covered every available surface. If he hadn't known what she was before, he certainly did now.
Rehema bit her lip as she stood before this man that she hardly knew, whom she had peremptorily summoned here, whose aid she had demanded, not asked, who had given her his immense store of power without question or hesitation.
"Um," she said embarrassedly. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
Cold struck her again, like a blow, and once again she raised her voice, choking the ancient words past the constriction in her throat, struggling to bridge the power across her fractured soul. Again it shorted, overflowing into fragile flesh, sending little shocks of pain throughout her entire body.
Sparks danced before her eyes and she clutched with her free hand at the windowframe. If she fell, this was over. No. When she fell. This ritual had never been meant for this. Her bodged-together soul couldn't sustain the effort.
Was the wind letting up a fraction?
She couldn't seem to breathe. She wasn't even sure whether she was speaking anymore, or just thinking the words. She released the windowframe and jerkily sketched a symbol in the air, reaching into the amulet in her other hand to empower it once more.
Her muscles spasmed. Tears of pain formed on her cheeks, but she couldn't breathe, far less cry out. Sparks flickered in front of her eyes, the sky dimming oddly behind them. She felt something beginning to shift...
Her entire body seemed to twitch. She staggered back from the window and fell.
***
...fire-warmed velvet. She felt as if she were wrapped in fire-warmed velvet, and sure hands gently smoothed away the painful shocks that danced in her muscles. She gasped for breath for a moment, then her lungs responded and she relaxed gratefully into the sheer relief of breathing.
She was lying down, her head propped up on something, a warm pressure on her brow from which the healing energy flowed.
Precious healing shouldn't be wasted on her.
"OK. I'm OK," she said quickly, rolling out from under his hands. She paused for a moment, fighting off a wave of dizziness, before coming to her feet, ignoring the offered hand. Quickly untangling the chain from her fingers she handed his pendant back to him. "Thanks."
She watched as he clasped the chain back around his neck. The window was closed now, snow piling up on the ledge outside, and in the absence of the scouring wind the stink of her flat was reasserting itself; of stale sweat, of the whisky soaked into the carpet, of the rotting food in the fast-food containers that covered every available surface. If he hadn't known what she was before, he certainly did now.
Rehema bit her lip as she stood before this man that she hardly knew, whom she had peremptorily summoned here, whose aid she had demanded, not asked, who had given her his immense store of power without question or hesitation.
"Um," she said embarrassedly. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
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